


The Enemy of my Enemy Within (is my Friend)

by Hawkbringer



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Abrupt Ending, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Sexual Assault, Discussion of Genocide, Domestic Bliss, Episode: s01e04 The Enemy Within (Star Trek), Evil Kirk vs Good Kirk, Evil author muahaha, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Flashbacks (Narrative structure), Hurt/Comfort, IN SPACE!, James T. Kirk is A Good Captain, M/M, Mention of hazing, Old Married Couple, Pon Farr, Reminiscing, Roombas, Saurian brandy (Star Trek), Three-Dimensional Chess (Star Trek), Time Skips, Vulcan Nerve Pinch, becoming friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 15:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18252533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer
Summary: Spock was absolutely certain there were two Kirks aboard the Enterprise. He is staring at one of them, while a second lies sprawled out on the floor of Conference Room 3, unconscious and in danger of acquiring a new, uneven haircut from a floor-cleaning robot. And yet, Spock does not at all regret his choice in leaving him there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An AU stemming from the classic Star Trek episode, "The Enemy Within," wherein a transporter accident splits Kirk into his Good and Evil halves. His good half is truly good, but physically weak, indecisive and naive. His evil half has no conscience, is impulsive, rude, and violent. Here, Spock discovers their split early on in a first-hand encounter with the Evil Kirk. 
> 
> Wikipedia informed me that this is the 4th episode the first season of TOS, meaning Spock and Kirk are relatively new to each other, and Kirk and Bones are both relatively new to the ship. I tried to incorporate that into the story, let me know if I succeeded!
> 
> Mind the tags. (Originally written early 2015 or earlier.)

Spock is standing in Sick Bay. Of his own volition. His captain of just a few Standard months is unconscious in the Sick Bay bed, right where Spock left him over an hour ago. He is also unconscious in Conference Room Three, having been relieved of a bottle of Saurian brandy that did not come from his private stores, Spock knew. He hasn't quite let go of it, though his whole reason for coming here, or so he'd told himself, was to return the bottle, now over half-empty, to Dr McCoy, its rightful owner. But despite the certainty that there must be two Kirks aboard the Enterprise, Spock cannot seem to find the impetus within himself to immediately inform the relevant members of the chain of command that he is now, at least temporarily, their Acting Captain. 

Only once McCoy returns to check on the weaker version of Jim, stopping short and asking why Spock is holding _his_ bottle of Saurian brandy - "heck, any type of alcohol at all, can't Vulcans not get drunk?" - does Spock open his mouth to speak. He informs the doctor of his conclusions regarding the Captain's double. It is a testament to how much the doctor has already seen in his tour of duty aboard the Enterprise - or how much he trusts Spock's logical thinking - that he doesn't question Spock's conclusion even once. He barely bats an eye, merely asks, "And the brandy?"

Spock is aware that McCoy is asking for the story behind the brandy's travels about the ship, and its lost contents. He elects to remain silent and simply return the object, which was his initial reason for coming here. A bit belatedly, but magnanimously as is characteristic for him, he hands McCoy back his brandy bottle, over half-empty. McCoy gives him the stink-eye but walks away with it, mumbling about who, exactly, was going to pay to replace it. 

Spock spoke up from Jim's bedside, ignoring the fact that he was supposed to have pretended he couldn't hear that. "I will." 

McCoy's head whips around so swiftly that Spock is mildly surprised to hear no accompanying crack. McCoy opens his mouth, then closes it, his eyebrows performing gymnastics that roughly translate, to Spock, as 'suspicion.'

For explanation, Spock gives a short speech about duty and the state of his savings, which, as he never takes shore leave, and only leaves the ship for work-related conferences, are quite sufficient to cover something as small as a bottle of Saurian brandy. McCoy's lips do the gymnastics this time, in a manner Spock finds quietly hilarious. He eventually capitulates with, "All right, you pointed-eared hobgoblin. I don't care if you think you're trying to protect Jim from the consequences of his own actions, or what, but..." He waves a hand as he walks out, shouting over his shoulder, "I'll expect it around Christmas-time, then, if you get my drift." 

Spock does, and squashes the impulse to look forward to McCoy's face near the end of the Terran calendar year (which had no meaning in space, nor aboard a Starfleet vessel, which measured time by stardates) upon receiving a meticulously-wrapped stasis box.

Spock inhales purposefully, holds the breath a moment, and exhales. He blinks slowly, contemplating Jim's untroubled, sleeping face. Kirk's face had looked just like this when Spock slowly laid him beside the conference table, out of direct view of the door. 

\--------

Kirk had caught him in the hallway, one hand clenched around the neck of a distinctively-shaped bottle, words too loud for the corridor, and swagger exaggerated into a full-on stagger. Spock immediately sensed trouble, but he could not flee because Kirk called out to him. 

"Ssss..Pock! It's Spock, my man! My main man, my... Vulcan, no, notta man! Ahahahaaa, 'M juss kiddin, Ssspock!" He went to sling an arm around Spock's shoulder, and when the Vulcan moved away, Kirk changed tactics immediately. "What, you dun like that... I've had a li'l ta DRINK?" He swung the bottle wildly, but it did not escape his grasp. Kirk misinterpreted Spock's widening eyes. 

"Yuuu.. Ssstuck up Vulcan!" he growled, lunging forward with his free hand and missing Spock's elbow. It landed on the keypad granting entry to the nearest room, and even in his impaired haze, Kirk recognized it, entered the number swiftly, and shoved Spock through the suddenly-opening door. Taken by surprise at the suddenly coordinated actions, Spock went.

"You..." Kirk growled as he followed, stepping out of range of the door so it wooshed shut. He crowded Spock against the side wall, trying to grab both his shoulders. Finding one hand encumbered by the alcohol, Kirk clenched his free hand around Spock's bicep and took a final swig, throwing the bottle behind him with eyes fierce upon Spock's face. Spock watched the arc of the delicate container, a bit surprised when it landed with a coarse clatter upon the hard floor, but did not shatter. Brandy spilled liberally out onto the floor, but Spock could not do anything to correct that at the moment. 

Both of Kirk's hands were rhythmically clenching at Spock's shoulders now, and he was... keening? It was a strange sound from Kirk's lips, one Spock was quite certain he had never heard before. His brows furrowed as he stared down into Kirk's now-pleading eyes. The drunk man offered no explanation, so Spock prompted, "What...?" 

Kirk immediately took in a deep breath and shouted back, "I HATE YOU, MISTER SPOCK!!" He attempted to slam Spock back into the wall repeatedly, only managing to move himself. Frustrated, Kirk shoved his forehead into Spock's clavicle, which the Vulcan also braced himself against. He had no defense against the red-hot tears that seeped through his shirt as Kirk buried his face against Spock's pectoral. 

"I hate that you _do this_ , Mister Spock! Exactly this. I'm trying to move you, and you _won't. Be. MOVED!_ " he grunted out, trying to shake Spock with the grip he still had on his deltoids. Proving his point admirably, Spock did not move. His eyebrows, however, had hardly seen more exercise in all his life. 

Kirk panted with the wasted effort, then looked up into Spock's face, a devious idea forming quite obviously in his addled mind. Spock's eyebrows lowered in disapproval, and Kirk did not take the hint, opening his mouth blithely to declare, "Spock! This is an order from yer Captin! Get on yer knees!" He let go of Spock's arms and stepped back, hands now at his hips. 

Spock blinked for a moment, debating whether or not to incapacitate Kirk now and drag him back to Sick Bay, where he should have been sleeping, or go along with this little farce in the hopes it would make Kirk more compliant. 

Deciding that the best-case scenario ended with Kirk making some overly-dramatic speech about how he and only he was Captain of the ship - he seemed to have some insecurities in this regard, despite the fact that the ship's record clearly stated that he _was_ \- Spock let out a breath and knelt. Kirk put one hand on the top of his head, and Spock wondered if he was about to pay dearly for his decision. 

The drunk man gave a pleased hum, his other hand drifting towards the seam of his pants, moaning, "Thaaaat's right, Mr. Spock, git down an' take it like the bitch you _aaaarrrre!_ " Spock did not move for a few heart-stopping seconds, unable to take his eyes from the crotch of Kirk's trousers where his free hand was diving in beneath the waistband, grasping--- 

Spock stood. Spock stood abruptly and completely and gave the drunkard not a single moment to _breathe_ between dislodging the hand atop his head and sapping the light from his eyes with a nerve-pinch. 

He held the insensate Kirk beneath the arms for a split-second before deciding to place him on the floor beside the table and lock the goddamn room. He took a moment to pick up the bottle of brandy, shaking his head minutely at the idea of cleaning up the spilled liquid. He spared a moment to activate the floor-cleaning bot, whose infrared sensors would navigate it around the chair and table legs, and also Kirk's prone body. It _might_ try to suck up his hair before sensing the solidity of his head, however Spock decided that slightly-shredded or disarranged hair was quite certainly within the range of punishment deserved by this series of actions. 

He stood from picking up the bottle as the little bot scuttled from its charging station behind a wall panel, and experienced something approaching nausea. He resolved to return the bottle to its rightful owner, as McCoy was probably tearing apart Sick Bay at that very moment, looking for the wayward Kirk. It would give Spock something to do.

\-----

He stares for too long at Jim's unconscious form, certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that this situation could not last forever. The double would be found, stinking of alcohol and unconscious in a conference room, and would probably be brought here for detox, if not immediately placed in a holding cell. He should not linger. But he does. 

He remains by Jim's side (and that is how he is thinking of him, this peaceful one, by his first name, the Jim who could be persuaded; _this_ one, _too_ easily) as the double is brought in, as McCoy irritates him with incorrect and insulting platitudes, as Jim calls weakly for them to stop fighting, as the double feigns weakness when he wakes and sneaks past him when Spock is called to the wall-unit outside for ship's business. 

He is there to support Jim as they hunt down the Id-Kirk, both Plato's Spirit and Appetite combined, as Jim lays gentle hands upon his double, and Kirk finally, finally, runs out of steam. 

He is there as the transporter is prepared, more swiftly than Mr. Scott would dare to on a normal day, but this is no normal day, not at all. He is there as McCoy tranquilizes Kirk, argues with him about performing the autopsy on the horned quadruped, but goes ahead and lets Jim walk up to that platform anyway. Mr. Scott works the controls and Spock is staring, staring, _staring,_ and Jim's eyes don't leave his even as he effervesces into light. 

Spock does not breathe for the short period of time that Jim is not in the room. 

This leads to a rush of lightheadedness as a lone figure appears on the transporter pad, slumped slightly, but otherwise physically sound, at least as well as Spock can tell at this distance. He sucks in a breath and Kirk attempts to take a step. He falls to his knees, and Spock is not the only one that cries, "Jim!" at that moment, and he hopes, hopes fervently enough for it to be a prayer, that McCoy will not remember that small detail once Jim _stands up again_... Which he does. He does, and Spock is panting through his nose with the relief his parasympathetic nervous system floods him with. 

McCoy is right there by Jim's side and Jim has but a moment to mutter, "I'm fine, I'm fine, just... my head..." before McCoy is haranguing him at the top of his lungs and spiriting him away to sick bay again. The transporter room is suddenly very empty despite the number of people still in it, and Spock sees no reason to stay. He goes up to the Bridge and remains there Acting Captain until Kirk calls for him by name, 36 hours later.

\---

"Bones," is the first thing out of Jim's mouth when Spock arrives in his quarters, hands behind his back, standing at parade rest. The doctor is present, wrapping up some lecture or other, it appears. He makes a questioning noise. 

"Give us some privacy, would you? Even if _I_ keel over, Spock here is sound as a horse." Jim glances to him, and the hooded-eyed deviousness in the look sparks something sudden and unpleasant in the pit of Spock's stomach, but the following comment is utterly innocuous. "Isn't that right, Mister Spock?" 

Spock raises his eyebrows as if contemplating and is about to say something about how he has never been compared to a horse, but that McCoy is welcome to verify the statement with a Feinberger, if he desires, but the doctor cuts him off. 

"Yeah, yeah, we can trust the Vulcan with everything, up to and including your health." He looks exasperatedly at the Vulcan for a moment, eyes too wide to be serious as he says, "Makes me wonder if I'm about to be out of a job!" 

Spock replies impassively, "I have no desire to be Chief Surgeon, Doctor. Your, 'job', as you put it, is quite safe from me." 

The innocent, happy smile the exchange brings to Kirk's face makes the slight indignity worth it, as it always has. McCoy grumbles something incomprehensible, even to Spock's sharp ears, and waves on his way out the door.

"Now," Kirk says, looking at his hands folded on the desk in front of him, not, very scrupulously not, at Spock. 

There is an awkward pause. 

"Now," Jim begins again. "I... called you here, Mr. Spock, to tell you something rather... sensitive, regarding the events of 48 hours past." 

Spock nods once, face as impassive as he can make it. 

"I..." he begins, then looks to Spock's face, seemingly for strength. 

He finds it. 

"I remember... everything." He gives a mirthless little huff of laughter and looks down at his folded hands. "It was a bit... much, to absorb, all at once. Two sets of memories, seeing myself from two different angles.... Quite... unusual, to say the least." 

"I should hope so," Spock says, nearly automatically, before the specific meaning of 'everything' truly sinks in. Kirk laughs without humor again. 

"Yes, of course, don't want to go making a habit of it!" The fragile smile on his lips drops entirely and he continues, looking dead-on into Spock's eyes. "I don't want to go making a habit of assaulting my crew members, either. No one deserves that." 

There is something hiding behind Kirk's eyes, something Spock is certain is not about to be discussed now, or perhaps ever. The possibility of 'never' sits ill in Spock's mind, so he makes a mental note to ask Kirk about it in ten years... assuming they are both still alive. That decidedly morbid thought makes Spock's lips twist in something approaching regret, or sadness. 

Kirk sees it, and self-recrimination flits across his face. "I won't make any excuses. 'I was drunk, I wasn't myself,' none of that." He stares at his hands. "You have every right to press charges and... and request a transfer--" 

"Jim, no!" Spock blurts out before the word has completely left Kirk's lips. He presses his recalcitrant lips together and casts about wildly for something logical to follow that outburst with. He doesn't need to. 

"You... you won't?" Jim's face displays a dizzying mix of shame and gratitude and Spock wants nothing more than for it to be easy between them again. Jim should not be ashamed of wanting Spock to stay. 

Spock shakes his head silently, which Jim has rarely seen him do. "I have no need to. Such events will never transpire again, unless you are split in an exactly-similar manner some time in the future." Spock almost smiles. "And if that does occur, Dr McCoy will know to restrain and tranquilize both of you while the transporter repairs proceed." 

Kirk looks down, still guilty. "That... doesn't change...." 

"True. But you did not succeed. I overpowered you once it became clear that you were not simply about to lecture me regarding the unacceptability of anyone but yourself being Captain..." 

Kirk looks up, his eyebrows knit in a confused sort of consternation. " _That's_ what you thought I was going to do?" 

"It seemed a logical assumption." Spock looks down then. "You... fear my physical strength." 

"No!" Jim jumps in. "No, no, not at all. I am so, grateful to have it, to have _you_ , on my side." He smiles very faintly, wishing Spock would look up and see the sincerity in his eyes. "Your strength has made the difference between success and failure on so many missions, Spock. Made the difference between life and death. I wouldn't want you to be anything but... but exactly what you are." 

"You wouldn't..." Spock parses the phrasing, "But you do?" 

Jim chews his lip. "I'll admit I find it... frustrating, at times, that we are... so unequal, in that regard. I'll admit to a degree of mental envy as well." He looks up with half a grin. "But I outclass you sometimes, Mr Spock, in terms of acting ability," Spock glances at the ceiling for a second, as close to an eye-roll as he will allow himself, and Jim laughs out loud, which makes it worth it. "In terms of emotional... literacy, I guess. In terms of being able to relate to the crew. And I feel bad about those strengths, too, oftentimes. It isn't fair that you... You have all these gifts and you can't... It's like you can't _talk_ to people sometimes." 

"And it isn't fair that I," Kirk continues after a brief pause, "the lowly human, jack of all trades and master of none, have _friends_." He pauses again. "Sometimes, you make me so grateful to be human, Mr. Spock. And sometimes, so ashamed. At the very least, I want to... offer you some of what I have. When you give me _everything_ in the course of duty. Someday you might give me your life." He looks up at Spock with eyes that seem older than the stars. "The _least_ I can do is make yours worth living." 

Spock sucks his lower lip back between his teeth, hiding the fact that he is biting it in an attempt to wake himself up, as humans pinch their arms. He is almost afraid to ask, "...How?"

"I'm glad you asked, Mr. Spock! I figured we could start with a game of chess." 

"We have played chess before," Spock feels constrained to point out.

"Well, yes," Kirk allows, "But this would be the first time we would play as _friends._ "

"Friends," Spock repeats, almost a question, almost non-plussed.

" _Yes,_ Mr. Spock," Jim replies, a teasing smile lighting up his face as he emphasizes the word. "Friendships are one of the things that make life worth living." He looks down then. "And I can give you _this_ at least." 

Spock attempts to swallow the sudden, illogical ball of emotion that has choked up his throat. 

He does not quite succeed. 

"Very well," he finds himself saying, sliding into the seat before Jim's desk as the smiling human produces a three-dimensional chessboard from one of the drawers beneath. "I will play you. And this time, I will win."

"Ohh, I wouldn't be too sure about _that_ , Mister! I still have a few tricks up my sleeve!" Jim says with a smile as he chooses white and sets up the pieces.

He wins the first game that night, but loses both rematches. Which is just the way he wanted it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10 years later, Spock asks Jim that question he had not thought it prudent to ask at the time. Which leads to them reminiscing on a past... /event/ they jointly overcame...

10 years later, Spock is sitting on Jim's couch, reading a draft of a dissertation from one of his promising young students when something akin to an alarm bell goes off in his head. He listens to it, and finds an old, old, mental note made 10 Terran years ago, to ask Jim what it was that drove the certainty behind his statement, after the two-halves fiasco, that no one deserved physical or sexual assault. He thought he had an idea, after the uncovering of Kodos and his mad daughter, of how uptight Jim had been during the whole affair and for weeks afterward, but to assuage his younger self, he asks anyway.

"Jim?" 

The man in question replies, "Mmn?" from another room. It seems he is changing the sheets or some such mundane activity. 

Spock doesn't smile, exactly, but lets his face relax. "Do you remember, ten years ago, after you were split into Id and Superego, when we had our first chess game as friends?" 

Kirk comes in from the adjoining room, stopping to shove a window open with a slam that irritates Spock every time. It is one of the many habits that nightly meditation has become so necessary for forgiving. But each day, it is easier, and Spock knows he would rather shoulder these burdens than not have the human in his life at all. He has lived both lives, after all, and knows which one he prefers.

"Yes, I do. Why do you bring _that_ up? It was ages ago. Ten years? Exactly?" Of course it's exactly, but Kirk sometimes likes hearing it, anyway.

"Yes. 10 years exactly, according to the Terran calendar, taking into account the effective, but highly illogical, Leap Years you Terrans are so fond of." 

Jim smiles at this and sits down on the couch beside Spock. "So, what about this chess game, exactly?"

"Before we played, you mentioned that you expected me to press charges of assault, to request a transfer..." 

Jim's face falls and he nods. "Yes, I was...prepared to offer you that. I thought for sure you'd accept. Who wouldn't after..." He looks away, face paling slightly as he kicked himself, again, for the unforgivable actions of his younger and uninhibited half-self. 

"When you said, and I quote, 'No one deserves that,' in reference to physical or sexual assault... There was a kind of... aura, about you. A certain expression, on your face. I sensed deep pain, deeply buried. I assumed you would not mention it that night, nor in all likelihood, ever, and I was correct. But I made a mental note at the time to ask you about it in 10 years, if we were both still alive."

"S _poooo_ ck! How morbid can you _get_! Neither one of us had even _died_ yet!" 

"You came close that day," Spock reminded him gravely, and Jim nodded, shoulders sagging. He leaned into Spock's side and the Vulcan allowed it, wondering if Jim needed the physical contact to draw strength for the explanation he seemed prepared to give. The Vulcan waited.

"So, um, you want to know, what I was thinking about, when I said that?" 

"Yes," Spock replied simply, not resisting his impulse to let a hand drift over to Kirk's thigh. Kirk covered it with his own and squeezed it, drawing a deep breath.

"Well.... Kodos. That's the short answer. I watched so many get beaten, killed in that square... for no reason. _No_ reason." He took another deep breath and blinked repeatedly. "The long answer... is the Academy." 

"Starfleet Academy?" Spock cut in for clarification, regretful he had interrupted almost instantly, but Kirk just nodded. 

"Bad things...can happen anywhere, I guess. Especially where you least expect them." He looked down at their hands, aching to connect the still-empty pair, but not wanting to jostle Spock too much. He crossed his free hand to his opposite shoulder, hugging himself slightly for comfort. Spock, miraculously, got the hint, and put his own free hand up, tangling his fingers with the ones nearly touching the Vulcan's shoulder. 

Then Spock went a step further and pressed the side of his skull against Jim's, rolling the bones against each other in a decidedly cat-like action and that made Kirk startle and coo, "Aren't you an affectionate Vulcan today?" 

"I am remembering a time when I could not do this. When I did not even dare to wish for it."

"Did I... make you wish for it?" 

"Yes," Spock replied simply, not stopping the rolling motion. "You cared for me, in my Time. You wanted to." 

"Damn straight I did," Kirk replied in a heated whisper, aware Spock found the sexual component of Kirk's devotion adorable, and having had a few years to reconcile that seeming insult. (Human sexuality was something Spock found difficult to comprehend, as it seemed so childish and innocent, free from the fears of eternal mental attachment, or even emotional baggage. Kirk had tried in the past to explain that there _were_ stakes with human sex, and sometimes they could be very high. He stopped trying to explain it about two years ago, when he saw for himself how truly child-like it was, compared to Vulcans'. Most of what Kirk had thought of as his sexuality fell under the heading of 'affection' for Spock, most of their physical touching and loving words. The realization that it hadn't been degraded in any way, but just put into perspective, played a large part in assuaging his damaged pride.) 

" _You_ never asked.... for anything... insulting," Kirk continued, remembering a time years before he ever met Spock, before he had even _heard_ of him, when he lived and worked and played with a crowd that routinely demanded insulting things of its members, as a show of solidarity. The cheering at the time had mollified Kirk's instinctive revulsion, back then, but now he saw it as nothing but sick, nothing but exploitative, dressed up in pretty words like 'community' and 'loyalty' that had nothing to do with the real thing.

"I do not remember ever _asking_ for anything at all," Spock replied, half-chuckling at himself, at his wordless need that Kirk, understanding so much more than any Vulcan Spock had ever met, had so easily divined. 

Kirk chuckled with him, remembering the same, a younger Spock who had stood up from their chess game one night, not 100% successful at suppressing the green flush in his face, sporting a truly impressive erection that he wordlessly begged Kirk to ignore. 

Kirk had not ignored it. He had said simply, "Are you going back to your room to deal with that, or would you like me to?" 

Standing there shaking with his fists at his sides, fighting the urge to put his hands down to hide his shame from view, Spock had replied, voice shaking nearly as badly as his fists, "As I have clearly failed to 'deal with it,' and I foresee no reason returning to my quarters would change that fact, perhaps..." He trailed off, then forced the words past his lips before his reason could belay them, "Perhapsyoushould." 

Jim had been momentarily confused, and decided to voice his thoughts as he swiftly cleared off the board and pieces, clattering them back into their drawer. "Do you not masturbate? Or does that not help?" Spock's head jerked up and Kirk had been almost awe-struck by the blush he saw there, realizing that it was a sight that perhaps no one but Spock's mother had ever seen, for the Vulcan was _always_ in control. 

"Mast..." As though he did not recognize the word! 

Jim's awe-struck face was not helping Spock _think_ at the moment. Neither was the diversion of precious oxygenated blood to his penis... "Self...stimulation is not effective for Vulcans." He looked away and continued, "It would be rather akin to a human attempting to induce orgasm by massaging their own neck. Pleasant, but highly ineffective, and in the end, frustrating." He glanced down from where his eyes had been flicking about the room, ashamed he even felt frustration about this situation at all. It should not have come to this. 

"Do you just...meditate it away? All the...urges?" 

Spock blew a breath out of his nose. It was not exactly an impatient huff, but one could be forgiven for assuming that it was. "Vulcans _have_ no urges," he protested shortly, then rolled his head slightly. "That is not true," he relented. "It is the _ideal_ to have no urges, but of course... Vulcans _do._ It is... a shame, for all of us. That we do. So, yes, meditation is the prescribed course of action. It is quite effective... 99.92% of the time." 

"For you personally? I can't imagine Vulcans swapping statistics, if it's such a shame." 

Spock blew another breath out of his nose, this one sounding more like a laugh, but of course, it was not. "Yes, for me, personally, you..." He paused, his head turning slightly, repeatedly, as if to swallow down a disagreeable pill. 

"You have involved yourself," he declared, and Kirk recognized the solemnity of the declaration. 

"I have," he replied, just as solemnly. "I do not regret it." 

"Not _yet_ ," Spock nearly spat in return. Kirk stepped out from behind the desk then, and took this shaking, wanting creature by the shoulders and tried to catch his down-cast eyes. 

"Nothing is irreversible at this stage," he whispered. "Am I right?" 

Spock breathed out through his nose. His shoulders sagged and he nodded. He did not look Jim in the eyes. 

"So if I help you with this... And afterward, you decide you never want me to do that again..." Spock's head jerked up at that and Jim was almost surprised to find his eyes dry. Then Spock unconsciously pulled a face in response to Jim's suggestion and he had to chuckle.

"Okay," he replied, "so you're probably _not_ going to decide that..." 

Spock merely grunted in affirmation and dropped his gaze again. The sight of their torsos, or their feet, so close together, seemed to be just as unbearable, as he grunted again, now in pain, and looked back up. 

"Will you...now?" he ground out between clenched teeth. 

"Now? Right now?" Kirk asked, unaware his voice has slipped into 'flirting' register. 

Spock groaned again and turned his head to stare past his left shoulder. "Yes, now. You offered..." 

"That I did," Kirk returned, unwilling to let Spock suffer in insecurity. "Very well, Mister Spock. Right now." And as he whispered the last two words, he moves his hands down from Spock's shoulders, steps them both towards the room divider so Spock can have something to lean against, and lets his hands settle at Spock's waistband. 

He begins working open the seam and mightily resists the urge to kiss Spock's face, instead leaning forward and putting his cheek against the Vulcan's to whisper in his ear. "Am I going to find anything... unusual?" He's not going to explain at this moment, but nasty surprises have happened to him before in this situation, and he wants to be prepared, if nothing else. 

"What is it shaped like?" he whispers when Spock doesn't respond beyond panting, now open-mouthed. 

"It is... cylindrical...small orifice...at the tip. It excretes...Ohhh..." Kirks smiles beside his cheek and wishes he could kiss him. He's got the Vulcan's trousers open and is trailing his palm up and down it through his underwear. He's got to agree with cylindrical part, at least, which is reassuring. 

"Yeah?" Kirk pants into his ear, becoming more and more aroused himself as it becomes increasingly clear that the Vulcan is not about to bolt and leave Kirk to pick up the shattered pieces of their friendship. Such a fear would put a damper on any man's wood. "What does it excrete?" And Jesus, but he never thought he'd find _that_ word sexy, but the way his Vulcan's lips smack when they part, the way his hands flutter up and down Jim's hips like they're not sure of their welcome... 

"A fluid... at the moment of...Hisshh-" he jerks a breath in as Kirk rewards his words by sneaking his fingers down behind the waistband of Spock's underwear, "Orgasm!" he pants breathlessly, fisting his hands in the back of Jim's shirt and muttering, "Don't stop, Jim, don't stop, don't stop. Jim, don't _stop!_ " 

Reacting wholly on instinct, Jim presses his hips forward, squashing his hand and taking a moment to breathe. Just to tease, he asks, "Stop?" pretending he hadn't heard the 'don't' that preceded it. 

" _Tel p' **TAK**_ ," Spock hisses in response, a Vulcan swear word, something Jim hadn't even thought _existed_ , and took matters literally into his own hands, grabbing Jim by the ass and throwing one leg around Jim's waist. He ruts them together with all the finesse of a dog in heat and presses his head forward against the side of Kirk's until his mouth meets flesh and he _bites_. He bites and sucks like he might draw the blood from Jim's throat by sheer force of will, because his canines clearly aren't sharp enough, and when this fact seems to irritate him even more, Kirk intervenes before the needy Vulcan tries to take more drastic measures. 

He knocks Spock's mouth away with his own jaw and settles his mouth securely at the juncture between neck and shoulder and applies his own version of worship to it. Spock immediately slackens against the wall, and Kirk feels his cock twitch in interest beneath his still-cramped hand. 

Sensing Spock was nearing his limit, Kirk shifts his hips away, as difficult as that was, to give his hand more room. Fisting him loosely and applying bruising suction to his throat, while also using his free hand to shove Spock's shirts up out of the way of the approaching ejaculation, Kirk took a moment to consider that the evening could hardly have ended better. Perhaps if he'd had the forethought to undress them both completely first... /But you gotta have something to look forward to, don't ya?/ he cheerily thinks to himself as he tightens his fist slowly, so slowly, as Spock gasps beside his ear and Kirk sucks harder on his throat in response. 

"Jim," Spock pants so quietly, barely able to be heard over the wet smacks of Jim's skin on his skin, "I'm...I'm! Soon," he breathes out, hoping the human will understand the warning despite his own shame that makes it impossible to give voice to the event that is literally seconds from occurring.

"Yesss," Jim hisses against his neck, throwing his hips forward with what would have been bruising force and ejaculating suddenly. The sensation of semen on his skin, so very much like his own, surprises Spock just enough that he stiffens in Jim's grasp, inhales sharply, and his penis throbs. Groaning at the sensation, Spock drags Jim closer by the hips, not letting up until his orgasm is finally drawn from him as if against its will, painting both their chests in yellow-tinged stripes that mingle with Jim's pure white.

"Agghh," Jim gripes as Spock's hands unclench from his ass cheeks, as he twists his neck back and forth and hisses at the truly impressive bruise he has left on Spock's neck, uncomfortably reminded of the time he had to steal the dermal regenerator from his mom's bathroom to cover for a similar event he had caused, with an impressively-horny local girl... at the age of 16.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and yell at me for ending it so abruptly! Hawkbringerandstubby(dot)tumblr(dot)com

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about friends and enemies on tumblr! I am Hawkbringerandstubby.


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